


The Fourth of September

by Cloudfefe



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Annoyed Noctis Lucis Caelum, Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, Canon Compliant, Confusion, Courtship, F/M, Feelings, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Flustered Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gen, Humor, Implied Mututal Pining, Love, Lunoct Celebration Days, Lunoct Celebration Days 2019, Mutual Pining, Noct's friends are trolls, Noctis Lucis Caelum is Bad at Feelings, Pining, Playing With The Boys, Romance, Slapstick, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Teen Years, Teen love, Teenagers, Trolling, True Love, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 07:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20524406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudfefe/pseuds/Cloudfefe
Summary: It’s the fourth day of September, and everyone in Insomnia is talking about it.Most years, it doesn’t cause any widespread excitement. There might be a few posts about it on the internet, or a comment on the street here and there, but usually nothing more. This time, though, is different, because this is the year that the Oracle Lunafreya finally comes of age.Of course Noct had known it was approaching. Really, how could he have forgotten?





	The Fourth of September

**Author's Note:**

> Noct’s friends find out that his crush’s birthday is today. Antics ensue.

It’s the fourth day of September, and everyone in Insomnia is talking about it.

Most years, it doesn’t cause any widespread excitement. There might be a few posts about it on the internet, or a comment on the street here and there, but usually nothing more. This time, though, is different, because this is the year that the Oracle Lunafreya finally comes of age. Reporters on every network have been raving all day about how the youngest Oracle in history has finally passed adulthood’s official threshold, about what an exemplary young woman she’s already shown herself to be, about how incredibly selfless and elegant and wise she is for someone at such a young age, and even so in years prior. It's been one of the only slivers of good news as of late - what with the war and unrest and constant political tension - and Lunafreya’s always been a beacon of hope among the masses, so the public is eating it up.

Of course Noct had known it was approaching. Really, how could he have forgotten? Both of their birthdays occur, coincidentally, within the same week, and they learned that about each other early on in their relationship. Ever since then, they've turned that coincidence into a yearly gift exchange, an annual tradition they use to close the distance keeping them so far away from each other… And Noct’s never failed to blow it up into his own personal hell of stress. At least he’s fortunate enough that his birthday falls a few days before Luna’s, so he always receives her gift first; unfailingly, it’s something thoughtful - with an attentive, personal touch that Noct would never have the presence of mind to attempt - and he’s on cloud nine for about five minutes before he starts panicking over how he’s going to sufficiently follow it up. Sure, he’s _ convinced _ himself that it’s best to wait until it arrives, so he can use it as a point of comparison, but it’s really just an excuse to procrastinate and avoid torturing himself over it for as long as possible. Eventually, though, he does start that process, where he racks every last corner of the romance-related parts of his brain for a way to show her how much he cares and thinks about her - just…maybe not _ too _ much (which, of course, he totally does). Every year, it’s the same state of affairs, where he obsesses over it for weeks beforehand: combing through every shop he can find, wrestling over which stupid little trinket to buy for her, deliberating back and forth on the damn _ sticker _he should use to attach it, reading and re-reading the note he includes to triple-check that he’s not making a complete fool out of himself.

For anyone else, it’d be a giant waste of time and energy - but it’s _ Luna _, and it's for her birthday, so it can’t be anything less than perfect.

Noct waited until the last possible minute to bite the bullet and send off his gift, and she should’ve received it this morning. He hasn’t heard back from her yet, though, so that anxious flutter’s still lingering scornfully in his stomach, the one that started the moment he watched Umbra trot off with it in his satchel. The same painful sequence keeps piercing its way through his mind: Luna, upon finding the gift in the notebook, extends nothing but an unenthused roll of her eyes, outright _ scoffing _ before discarding it with the rest of the rejects he’s sent her over the years. They’re only brief stabs, but every frame comes in mortifyingly vivid detail, and each one makes a sharp pit settle at the base of his stomach. He’s definitely overthinking it, but no matter how much he agonizes, he’s never even remotely confident that he chose well; either the gift was too much or not enough, but his feelings shift between the two depending on the day. Right now, though, Noct’s trying to drag his mind away from those thoughts (kicking and screaming, if he has to) in favor of enjoying a lazy day off with his friends… So long as none of them bring up the occasion.

At first, everything seems to be going well on that account. Coinciding gaps in their active schedules aren’t as common as they’d like them to be, so the four of them are celebrating the rare occurrence by killing time at Noct’s apartment. They’ve scattered themselves haphazardly throughout the main living space; the prospect of a potential night out hangs in the air, or maybe they’ll just order takeout and have it delivered. For the moment, they’re playing it by ear, none of them bothering to formulate any committed plans or to even suggest that they make any.

Two of them, Prompto and Ignis, are in the kitchen, propped up against the counter as they engage in casual conversation (mainly, Prompto prattling on and on while Ignis hums at him in half-interest). Gladio’s taken on the job of finding something to watch while they lounge around, and he’s using the remote to click idly through the channels, presumably looking for a rerun of a dumb movie that’s already halfway over. There’s a dark shape, too, on the other side of the sectional, sprawled carelessly over it in a lifeless heap, and it looks remarkably similar to how a throw blanket would be arranged if there were one in the room. This is just Noct’s default pose, though: feet propped together on the coffee table, head thrown lazily back against the cushions, one limp arm draped across the top of them. It’s a welcome change in demeanor from the past few weeks, which have been nothing but hunched shoulders and grinding teeth and splitting headaches. For now, at least, the self-inflicted pressure’s petered out into a dull haze, thanks in no small part to the company of his friends and the welcome distraction of modern cable. It drones on the screen before him, brief clips of high-definition video flashing in quick succession, accompanied by little bouts of intermittent audio that blurt through the speakers.

Then, the channel changes to the news.

_ Is it hard giving blessings? _ An offscreen journalist inquires.

_ It would be selfish of me to complain of my burden, _ Luna responds, voice cool and genuine through the amplification of booming speakers, _ when so many suffer in wait. I hope they trust I will not rest until they all know solace. _

Gladio, of course, stops on the broadcast, and he even has the nerve to tick the volume up a few notches as Luna speaks. Noct feels another dull, throbbing pain start to develop reflexively between his eyes. As long as he has enough bait, Gladio’s ruthless with it, and it’s been that way ever since he learned that the prince has been obsessed with the same girl since he was eight years old. His lip twitches in an almost knee-jerk wince. He’s half-tempted to make a snide comment, or to outright tell him to switch the channel; he’s also one-hundred-percent certain that, considering who's on screen, he'll only end up backing himself into a corner if he shows any reaction at all. So, he restrains his feelings as best he can and makes every effort to look as bored and impassive as possible.

Sure enough, though, Prompto’s the one to speak up first. “Hey,” he exclaims, eyes perking up to the flat-screen in sudden interest, “look who’s on TV!”

“Oh,” Gladio says, way too casually for Noct’s liking. He’s still trying to telepathically will him to hit the stupid button and flip past this. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“Today just so happens to be Lady Lunafreya’s birthday,” Ignis informatively chimes in: “and, more than that, the year that she comes of age.”

Luna, meanwhile, framed by the edges of the screen, is sat behind a broad, covered table, laden heavily in the front with microphones and wires. She’s wrapped up in one of those awful press panels - the kind that go on forever and require nothing less than the most articulate answers and impeccable demeanor… Even through the assault of blinding shutters and endless, rapidfire questions. It appears to be a live broadcast, too, and Noct feels a dull pang of sympathy for her. Events like this never fail to unnerve him, so the thought that she has to suffer through one of them, on her _ birthday _of all days, sounds absolutely unbearable to him.

Still, despite the overwhelming barrage of media attention, she looks too good to be true. She’s a dream to look at as a general rule, but she doesn’t seem an ounce uncomfortable or flustered under all the pressure. If anything, she appears composed, assertive, her presence commanding the whole session. It’s like she _ belongs _there, like she’s more than happy to sit in front of a tortuous forum and provide impromptu answers to mobs of loud reporters. Luna doesn’t have a drop of selfishness in her, and she’s never been one to chase prestige or seek out recognition. Instead, she takes it in stride, with an astonishing amount of grace that absolutely blows him away, and employs her platform to impart heartening wisdom during a time that's seen little to none of it - to sow sorely-needed seeds of hope on grateful, welcoming ground.

It’s almost hard to believe there’s someone out there who’s _ that perfect _.

The moderator signifies that their segment has run out of time, allowing for one final question, and an avid hand shoots into the air. _ Do you have one last message you’d like to leave with the people? _ The reporter calls out eagerly.

Luna pauses, her eyes shifting thoughtfully to something far off, and for a moment, all that’s on screen are her pensive, gentle features, punctuated only by the distant clamor of the crowd. Eventually, though, she turns her attention back to the sea of people before her, and her expression settles with fresh resolve. _ If you know of any who are bedridden, or unable to come to me, _ she begins with earnest sincerity: _ pray, send word, and I shall go to them. I follow my calling; I will not halt my steps for anything else. _

With that, the interview session concludes, and Luna nods gratefully as a spirited round of applause breaks out amongst the spectators - but before the stream cuts, Noct catches a glint of light flashing from a chain on her neck, and he nearly grips the edge of the couch to keep himself from shooting out of the seat.

Noct had stood in that little jewelry shop for what felt like hours, so long that all the pieces were starting to look the same to him. Her birthday’s always been an important day in his eyes, but this one was _ extra _-special, so he wanted to get her something a little more than usual… But he was finding it harder than expected to strike that balance between subtle and memorable, between thoughtful but not quite desperate. Gold was definitely going way too far, but he didn’t want to get her something cheap, and anything with gems felt wrong. Whatever he chose, it had to be tasteful and refined, like her, without accidentally treading into inappropriate territory.

Finally, after so much deliberation that his temple was starting to throb and even the clerk seemed to be getting fed up with him, he conceded on a simple silver necklace decorated with a fitting little moon charm - the same one that’s now hanging delicately around her neck.

Intense heat suddenly swells in his chest, like an over-boiling pot bubbling up to his whole face. He’s faintly afraid that one of his friends will notice, but his mind’s too preoccupied to properly act on that thought. The necklace is so modest, he might've guessed it’d clash with her usual style, that the dangly little ornament would contrast too starkly with her elegant formal wear… But his choice suits her so well he can hardly believe it, and naturally, she makes it look absolutely flawless without even trying. A new vision enters his thoughts, then - brief, but still very detailed - of her opening the notebook to find the piece, carefully latching the clasp behind her neck, examining it in the mirror to admire the way it rests against her collarbone. All of a sudden, the air in his apartment feels way more dense and heavy, and the line of his shirt starts tightening unbearably around his neck. He tugs at it with his finger, suppressing a dry lump surfacing in the back of his throat, his face twisting into something bizarrely between embarrassment and pure, unbridled giddiness.

He’s probably blowing this out of proportion. It's not like a dumb necklace is anything to get worked up over. The camera wasn't even focusing on it (really, it’s a miracle that he even noticed), and Luna wasn't pointing it out to anyone. That’s just it, though. She _ wasn’t _ pointing it out to anyone. It was just… _ there _ , like the affection embedded between them runs so deep that there’s no _ need _ to explicitly acknowledge it. He has a fleeting thought that she wore it deliberately, with the hope that he might watch and see her wearing it, but the accessory is so understated that the idea seems highly unlikely. It’s a lot more probable that she just _ likes _it, enough to wear it proudly on a live broadcast. Hell, maybe it gives her confidence, the meagre weight of the charm lying faint against her skin, a gentle reminder that she has someone out there ready to stand by her no matter what.

Somehow, his stupid gift has become a sentimental token, a subtle, precious reassurance of their mutual fondness and appreciation - and now, the two get to share it, unbeknownst to everyone else, over miles of distance bridged by a single screen.

Yeah. He’s got it bad.

Meanwhile, Prompto pipes up again, completely oblivious to the onset of Noct’s sudden internal crisis. “Huh,” he considers, reflecting on the new knowledge that Ignis has recounted. “It’s her birthday? Never realized today was something special before.”

“Normally, it’s not an event that’s broadcast, but this happens to be a special occasion,” Ignis informs him.

“Mhm,” Gladio affirms. “They’re makin’ a huge deal out of it this year.”

“Yes, it seems everyone’s participating in the festivities,” Ignis muses, eyes appraising the droves of spectators on the television pining to hear her speak.

“No kidding,” Prompto agrees emphatically, and he turns his head in Noct’s direction. “Hey, Noct, did you know about - _whoa_.”

Ever since Noct’s known him, Prompto’s been an easy conversationalist, never afraid to blurt out whatever petty thoughts pop into his mind. He’s blatant, and a little shameless, and it makes him horribly good at calling attention to Noct at the _ worst _ possible moments. It’s followed by a dreadful silence where they all turn their heads to stare at him. Ignis and Prompto even tilt their heads to get a better view from the kitchen. They all have looks on their faces that are _ way _too entertained for their own good.

“Uh… You alright over there, buddy?” Noct can hear Prompto smirking through the question. He’s the only one who seems surprised by Noct’s current condition; Gladio and Ignis, on the other hand, both seem mostly unimpressed, but still no less amused.

“Yeah, m’fine,” Noct mumbles a little hoarsely, shifting awkwardly and ducking his head to run his fingers through his hair. He can feel his whole face burning a violent shade of scarlet, the flush reaching the edges of his ears, and the expression plastered on his face probably looks nothing less than costive. He should've seen this coming. Maybe if he excused himself earlier, he could’ve avoided it, but doing that would probably have just made himself more obvious. Somehow, he manages to do the impossible by blushing even deeper, and burying half his face in the crook of his arm does nothing to hide it.

“Tch. Yeah, he’s fine,” Gladio scoffs. He tips his head in Prompto’s direction, but the way he says it is enough to indicate who he’s really talking to. “Just doesn’t know how to keep his hormones in check.”

Prompto lets out a snort. “Shut it,” Noct snaps at both of them through slightly gritted teeth, but it only makes Prompto break out into uncontrollable laughter, and even the corners of Ignis’ lips twitch upward.

Noct lets out an exasperated huff of air. “What? Not like it ain’t obvious,” Gladio says matter-of-factly in response. “You don’t exactly do a good job of keepin’ your crush a secret.”

“Wouldn’t need to if you’d just drop it,” Noct counters, shooting him a dark, accusing glare.

“Noct always _ has _been an open book.” Ignis smirks, drumming his fingers critically on the countertop.

“Not a very good one, though,” Gladio quips back. “Written like one of those terrible, hacky romances they mass-produce for sad loners like him.”

That earns another round of giggling from Prompto, who’s left heaving his shoulders and clutching limply at his sides. Noct realizes his jaw’s getting sore from how hard he’s grinding his teeth.

“No one’s asking you to read it, then,” he hisses back almost lyrically.

“Don’t be so dramatic, princess.” Gladio dismisses, with an impassive wave of his arm. “You’re makin’ this way too easy.”

When it comes to this particular subject, each of Noct’s friends has their own special way of getting under his skin. Prompto’s the newest member of the circle, certainly newer than Ignis and Gladio, and Noct’s done his best so far to avoid revealing that he even _ has _a crush. But Prompto’s definitely prodded him about it on more than one occasion, and even though Noct knows it’s all in good fun, he’s still secretly annoyed every time he tries to suggest he has an eye for someone who isn’t Luna - as if there’d ever be another person who could even come close to making him feel the same way she does.

The other two, however, have a _ much _better idea of what runs between him and his complement in Tenebrae, and Gladio just so happens to be an expert at playing on his insecurities. He’s always been hard on Noct, and even after the two of them came to terms and developed a tight fraternal bond, that side of their relationship never went away. Sure, the teasing’s only meant motivate him to get his act together - and Noct’s painfully aware of how badly he needs to do so - but any urging to “be better” for someone as faultless as Luna is daunting enough to make him want to give up altogether. And Ignis? He’s known Noct the longest, was at his side the moment he returned to Insomnia head-over-heels, observed firsthand how his childish attraction only gained more momentum over the years. Still, Ignis is practical to a fault, valuing common sense even in the senseless parts of life - and he feels the need every time the subject comes up to remind Noct that his little ‘entanglement’ is built on nothing but empty hope, that he should learn to triumph over his emotions, that he’ll eventually have to move on in favor of a more likely partner, and more of the same.

It’s no use trying to put a stop to it, either. Prompto’s always looking for a laugh, Ignis means too well with his diehard pragmatism, and Gladio’s a relentless deluge of tough love. When they’re alone, it’s more or less tolerable; Noct can handle Prompto’s digging, brush off Ignis’ demoralizing comments, let Gladio’s goading and bating run right over him (for the most part, at least). When they all get together, though, it’s a totally different story. In a group, they practically _ feed _off each other. Gladio accentuates Prompto’s and Ignis’ teasing side, Ignis pushes the other two in a more critical direction, and Prompto’s overeager nature only feeds more fuel into the fire.

Speaking of which, Prompto’s ridiculous laughing fit is getting to be too much to handle. “_ You _ really need to get a grip,” Noct carps angrily, pointing a finger in his direction.

“I can’t help it, dude,” Prompto gasps out in between doubled-over wracks. There’s a tear brimming at the corner of his eye, and he flicks it away with a deep breath. “Seriously,” he chuckles, “you should see your _face_ right now.”

Noct sees the screen flicker past a wide view of Tenebrae’s vast fields of blue flowers, and the shot catches his eye enough to redirect his focus back to the program. His friends were so busy reaming him that, apparently, he hadn’t realized the channel was already partway through a new segment. _ After her mother’s untimely demise _ , a new voice details over a series of pre-recorded clips, _ Lady Lunafreya’s rise to Oracle marked a historical event, the youngest in history at the age of sixteen _.

Noct recognizes the footage from the day Luna donned the traditional vestments of her house and formally accepted her appointed role. The ritual had occurred nearly four years after the invasion of Tenebrae, an event that ripped through the land like a hurricane and left the populace reeling in its wake. Without a proper successor, the assassination of its queen subjugated the great province to the tyrannical grasp of the empire and, even worse, left the rest of the world devoid of a proper link to the gods they were so desperate to entreat. The only hope anyone could find during such a dark hour was in the late queen’s flowering daughter, whose heritage bequeathed her the role even though she still hadn’t reached her adolescent years. As time went by, though, she grew to exceed every expectation, and when the day of her ascension finally came, the entire globe saw in her the start of a more hopeful future, the promise of a land someday free from the ravages of endless war.

It’s been a long time since that ceremony took place, but Noct can remember every detail of it like it was yesterday. He remembers the way she stood at the head of the aisle, chin raised and shoulders squared magisterially, eyes firmly fixed on whatever lay before her. He remembers the three-pronged spear she held at her chest, its sharp tips glinting in the light, her grip spaced solidly along it. He remembers her _ eyes _, too, full of an intensity he hadn’t seen until then, as she proceeded steadily past throngs and throngs of admiring onlookers. All those same feelings suddenly wash over him again: feelings of inadequacy, of foolishness, of being way too young and small compared to the stately, untouchable vision advancing headlong toward her calling.

“To think the Oracle manifested herself only a few years past,” Ignis muses at the memory, plaintive and filled with gratitude all at the same time.

“Right,” Gladio concurs, his own voice going a little quiet. “Hard to believe she's just now coming of age.”

The spread switches, then, to show a less-formal shot of her in another part of the territory, standing before a massive sea of people eagerly clamoring for her attentions. She approaches the first in line - an elderly individual, pallid and feeble, with a painfully curved spine and crooked hip - and offers out her hands, carefully leading the hobbling form to a seat at the head of the queue. Once they’re settled comfortably, she bends to meet them, and swirls of golden magic start to ripple across the screen. _ Soon after, _ the commentary continues, _ a mysterious plague began infecting the masses, and she traveled the land in response, providing healing and relief to those who sought her aid. _

“Wow,” Prompto exclaims, his laughter having subsided enough to let him talk normally again. “She’s really done a lot for the people since then, huh?”

“She certainly has,” Ignis affirms, pointedly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “A stark contrast to her counterpart in Lucis.”

Noct opens his mouth to retaliate, but he’s not quick enough. “Oof.” Prompto hisses painfully. “Burn, Iggy.”

“He’s not wrong, though,” Gladio adds. “Noct’s pretty much a lost cause.”

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Noct fumes, sounding a lot more affronted than he actually meant to.

“Come on,” Gladio determines. He gestures at the screen. “Look at her. You really think you stand a chance?”

Gladio’s being condescending, but Noct’s cheeks still flush at how true that statement really is. He definitely doesn’t _ feel _like he’s accomplished anything important, especially since the most noteworthy thing he’s done lately has been moving into an apartment that Ignis still largely takes care of for him. Meanwhile, Luna’s already grown into a young woman, embracing all her obligations with open arms, gladly rising to represent peace, unity and virtue for all. It’s painfully obvious how advanced she is compared to him in every way: intelligence, maturity, compassion, bravery, drive. Without anyone else’s reminding, Noct’s hyper-aware that he should probably rethink his prospects, maybe start considering some more attainable options… Still, he’s already sure that no one else in the world could ever have the same effect that Luna has on him. Any thought or mention of her sparks something inane and feeble in his subconscious, practically regressing him back into the child he was when they first met. Whenever she pops into his mind, appears on his screen, writes him a message in their book, it happens: butterflies flare up in his gut, heat rushes to his cheeks, and his face twists into embarrassing expressions that shouldn’t be possible to make.

The TV apparently knows how to read Noct’s thoughts, because it plays another clip of her, speaking with unshakeable confidence before a host of dignitaries and officials. _ Though I am still young, my blood is true, _ she promises to them, and to everyone else who might be listening to her words on the other side of the camera. _ As my mother before me, I shall work to bring peace to one and all. _

“You see that?” Gladio continues, tilting his chin toward the screen. “You can’t even carry yourself _ half _as good as she does.”

“Yeah, you might be right about that,” Prompto agrees, albeit a little tentatively. “Noct’s got less of a stride and more of…an awkward shuffle, y’know?”

“Surprised he can stand on two legs sometimes,” Gladio notes dryly.

The noise that comes out of Noct’s throat sounds nothing short of strangled. “Come now, that’s enough teasing,” Ignis rebukes, even though his tone’s too light for it to be a true scolding. “We’re all aware of the current circumstances. It likely will never come to pass either way.”

_ The world watched on with worry and wonder as the young girl grew, _ the narrator finishes, _ and in time, her strength became an inspiration to all. _

Noct sucks in a huff of air through his teeth. “Thanks for the reminder,” he sighs back, voice seething at the base of his lungs.

The program then transitions to another item: a documentary-style segment, heavily focused on the Oracle’s history. It delves directly into an overview of the lineage of House Fleuret, starting with the life and deeds of the first Oracle as they were recorded 2,000 years ago. Prompto quickly loses interest.

“So, what _ is _it between you two, anyway?” He asks Noct instead, switching to a topic he finds far more interesting. “Are you guys, like…‘together’ or something?”

Ignis is quick to explain the situation on Noct’s behalf. “A childhood attachment, nothing more,” he says, gaze pointed deliberately at the prince. “Although, it’s clear His Highness wishes it were.”

“Pretty sure he was asking _ me _,” Noct butts back in, his voice rising a little with the indignation.

“I only meant to clarify, Noct,” Ignis remarks snidely, “since you yourself seem to be unable to manage your own emotions.”

Noct huffs. “_ You _ try to manage them for me just fine.”

“Only because you make it hard to watch,” Gladio interjects. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Can’t believe you try so hard to hide it from everyone. Your whole _ existence _gives it away.”

“Wait,” Prompto says. “You mean she doesn’t know?” He looks at Ignis and Gladio for confirmation, then furrows his brow incredulously at Noct. “Why don’t you just _ tell _her, dude?”

Honestly, Noct has no clue how to even answer Prompto’s question. Sure, his feelings are undeniable, but actually navigating them in the real world is a whole other story. Noct’s never given Luna a proper confession, let alone attempted to put it into words for her, and it’s not just because their countries have technically been at war for nearly a decade. Words are hard - _ especially _when it comes to this - and he doesn’t even know where to begin with them. How would he let her know how he really, truly feels? How would he admit that, since the day he came to Tenebrae, not one has passed where he hasn’t thought about her at least once? How is he supposed to explain how he’s fallen for her so incredibly hopelessly, that he could never even dream of having eyes for anyone else? He can’t think of a way to say it, at least one that doesn’t make him sound completely and utterly pathetic. Luna’s so far apart from him in so many ways other than just distance; if she rejected him, or if he did something to ruin it for them (both likely possibilities in his eyes), he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Even if she did feel the same way, what would it matter? Neither of them will probably have a choice in who they marry, anyway. It’s all much safer tucked away in his brain as a distant fantasy, where the harsh atrocity of real life can’t destroy it.

“It’s not quite as simple as it may seem, Prompto.” Ignis intercepts the question while Noct is still deliberating over it, clearly undeterred by his protests from before. “Political climate aside, the life of a prince tends to be set in stone.”

Noct lets out a weary, long-winded sigh. “It’s none of your business, anyway,” he mutters, in another bootless effort to end the discussion.

“I can’t _ believe _ you haven’t told her, Noct,” Prompto exclaims, shaking his head in disbelief like he didn’t even hear him. “I mean, don’t you _ want _her to know? If you found out she felt the same way, your life would be, like, straight out of a romance novel.”

“No way,” Gladio says incredulously. “Noct, and ‘romance’? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

“You think so?”

“And you don’t?” Gladio rolls his eyes at Noct’s deadpanning. “Please. You’re already a desperate mess, and that’s without our help.”

“Aw, c’mon. Noct could _ totally _woo her,” Prompto insists. “He just has to be less, uh…” He gestures at Ignis and Gladio, in the hopes that they’ll help him find the right words for what he’s thinking.

“Indolent?”

“Whiny?”

“Sullen?”

“Nerdy?”

“Diffident?”

“Gawky?”

“Stiff?”

“Embarrassing?”

Prompto’s gaze shifts briefly, considering all the items on their all-too-ready list of adjectives. “Yeah,” he nods then, eyes moving back to show his agreement. “That.”

“This conversation is over.” Noct lurches forward to grab the remote out of Gladio’s hand - but Gladio’s too quick, and he pulls away before Noct can get his hands on it.

“Hey,” he reproaches, cocking an eyebrow at him. “The hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Give me the remote, Gladio.” Noct orders firmly, in the best ‘I’m-the-prince’ voice he can manage.

“With _ that _attitude?” Gladio scoffs. “Don’t think so.”

Noct regresses to a whirl of flailing limbs, and Gladio doesn’t even flinch - just uses one hand to hold the device above his head and the other to push Noct back at arm’s length.

Prompto puts his chin in his hand, thoughtfully considering Noct’s frantic, feeble attempts to overpower the massive arm keeping him at bay. “So, Iggy,” he asks, after a few moments. “How’re the odds lookin’ for Noct here?”

“They don’t seem to be in his favor,” Ignis replies dryly.

Prompto makes a discontented noise at that. “Maybe you should show some mercy, big guy.”

“Hell no.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. At least give him a _ chance _.”

Something mischievous lights up in Gladio’s eyes at that, and his mouth twitches into a smirk. “Fine,” he says, turning to Prompto. “You try it, then.”

“Wait, _ me _?” Prompto exclaims, but Gladio’s already tossing the remote toward him. It all happens in slow motion: the remote flies through the air, Prompto instinctively stretches his arms outward to fumble for it, and Noct shifts forward as he dissipates in a flash of blue light.

Prompto’s the one who catches the remote, but Noct ends up warping right on top of him, and the two land in a thrashing heap on the ground.

“Oof - hey, get off me, man!” Prompto cries out as he shifts his body to the side, both of them trying desperately to get a better grip on the prize.

“Just hand it over!” Noct shouts. Prompto yelps as Noct digs his fingers into his ribs.

“Settle down, you two,” Ignis says absentmindedly. “You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

He doesn’t follow up with any effort to stop them. Gladio, not taking his eyes off the struggle, moves to take Prompto’s previous spot next to Ignis. He shifts to lean up against the counter.

“Think he remembers that the TV has buttons on it for changing the channel?” He asks.

“Perhaps one of us should remind him,” Ignis proposes.

Neither of them move.

They both watch, indifferently, as Noct scrambles frantically around the apartment after an equally frenzied Prompto, until Gladio finally reaches a hand into his pocket. “So, I’m thinkin’ takeout tonight,” he determines once he’s fished out his phone. He turns it on and swipes past the lock screen. “Noodles sound good. How ‘bout you, Iggy?”

“Likewise,” Ignis concurs, as he peers over Gladio’s shoulder to watch him open the takeout order app. “Make sure to order something with extra vegetables for Noct.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Luna! I totally did not almost forget to post this today.
> 
> Have you ever wondered if there was a story behind the necklace that she wears in-game? ‘Cause I have.
> 
> I actually didn't know that Luna’s birthday was five days after Noct’s - maybe the devs did that on purpose, but it made for a nice addition to Noct’s perspective either way. Let's assume that he already got Luna’s gift shortly before this, and of course he was beside himself (doesn’t even matter what she sent, the boy’s totally in over his head with her lmao).
> 
> To be honest, I like to think Luna was a little beside herself when she got the necklace c:


End file.
